


Apathy

by triggermoreliketiger



Series: Memoirs of Glass and Dust [1]
Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst, Dark Sides, Dark! Roman, Here we go, Or so I've heard, Other, believe me, heh, no idea if Apathy is an oc or not, small dash of platonic love, too bad it's one-sided, you're gonna love apathy I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-04-28 19:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14455740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggermoreliketiger/pseuds/triggermoreliketiger
Summary: A story about how Roman turned dark.





	1. Wrecked Coronation

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr liked this story so I thought "what the heck, let's put it here too!"  
> (you can still read it on my tumblr though: @royallyanxious)
> 
> tw: Light Side turning into Dark Side

The sides could evolve.

For example Virgil who from the Dark Side evolved into Light Side.

New sides could appear. Old sides could disappear. It happened rarely but it was possible.

Logan had been working really hard recently. Planning the videos, organizing the schedule, making Thomas slowly fall into the habit of creating. No one noticed what was happening. No one noticed how Logan’s room was slowly expanding to the right side. No one noticed the small changes in his work. Not even Logan.

 

 

It took Roman a while to understand what was going on. He wasn’t blaming anyone but himself. He wasn’t even sad. Apparently he wasn’t doing good enough. He wasn’t doing good enough if Logan was slowly taking Roman’s department. The videos were still creative after all. A little bit more logical but still creative. Roman was smiling softly watching Logan writing down more and more ideas, filling up notebooks that used to be his. He wasn’t drawing unicorns or rainbows like Roman did but his visions were amazing. He was so proud.

Every evening when Roman was coming back to his room, he found it a little bit smaller. More narrow. Less colorful than he left it. Every evening he sat down next to the wall that was separating his room from Logan’s, trying to catch the vibrations. Trying to feel his room being taken away from him. Trying to say goodbye to ideas that were slowly becoming Logan’s. Roman was so proud of his nerd. He couldn’t help but smile whenever Logan was rambling about the new ideas that were compatible with Thomas’ sleeping schedule.

He promised himself that he wouldn’t tell anyone. He would walk away in peace. Disappear unnoticed. Roman wasn’t blind. He saw how others paid less and less attention to him. It wasn’t their fault. It was natural order of things. He couldn’t do anything about it.

It was merely an accident that Virgil found out. He wanted to borrow something from Roman. Was it a movie or was it an eyeshadow…?- it didn’t matter. He knocked softly but hearing no response, he walked it. Roman was curling up in the corner of his room which at this point reminded more of a closet than an actual room. What was left of Creative Side was peacefully sleeping. Virgil gasped. It wasn’t hard to add one thing to the other. Roman’s eyes snap opened, blinded with fear.

“Please.” He said weakly upon spotting Virgil standing in the door and stumbling a little bit as he tried to get up. His skin was pale, almost translucent. Way paler than Virgil’s foundation.

Virgil shook his head. How could he not tell if his friend was basically dying and no one saw this?

“You can’t tell the others.” Begged Roman softly “Logan has to expand. He will take my ideas. Patton has to expand. He will be more romantic. I’m just… Thomas doesn’t need childish dreams anymore. It’s for the better, Virge.” His hands grasped Virgil’s hoodie. “Please? Do it for me. This one, last time?” hazelnut eyes were shining with hot, desperate tears.

Virgil didn’t know why he nodded back then.

 

 

It was surprising even for Roman. It was day like any other. He knew that he would be gone soon and yet… it seemed to come fast, way too fast. He wanted to at least bid the final goodbye. At this point he was treated almost like an air. Hardly ever appearing in the videos. Mostly just sitting in the corner of the common room, alone, watching the others as if he was a ghost. From time to time he caught Virgil glimpsing at him. His warm eyes were faded with worry and sadness. Every time when Roman caught that look, he sent Virgil a little bit sarcastic but filled with love smile.            

“It’s for the better.” His eyes seemed to say. And so Virgil kept his mouth shut.

That day Roman left the common room especially late, watching Logan working over new video until he fell asleep. Roma got up quietly and put the blanket around his arms. He could do at least that.

His steps were soft as he was crossing the hallway on the way to his room. His heart was pounding. Maybe his guts were wrong. Maybe it wasn’t today. Maybe he still had time.

His hand slipped down the doorknob one time. Two times. Three times. It took him four attempts to finally press it. The door opened softly. There was nothing behind them. Just a plain, empty wall. As if his room was never there.

His legs had failed him and he quietly collapsed on the floor. No sound was made. Ghost make no sounds. A sob wrecked his body. He wasn’t ready yet. Not yet. His vision was all blurry not from the tears but from the fog that started to surround him. He felt so heavy. His eyelids closed as if he was falling asleep. Only that there was no sleep, no sweet dreams, no magical realm. Only darkness.

 

 

Virgil found him few minutes later. Roman’s body was light like a small feather. So pure, so distant, so transient, like the dreams he used to weave. The world narrowed to this one side breathing heavily in Virgil’s arms. He had to do something. It was his fault. Dark purple tears rolled down Virgil’s cheeks. Why did he listen to this dramatic idiot on the first place?

An idea flashed through his clouded with panic head. It was the only way.

Dark Side could become a Light Side and Light Side could…

Holding the shattered pieces of Creativity in his arms, he sank into subconscious space. Virgil left Roman there, knowing that he couldn’t stay much longer, before the fumes would haze his own mind. He gently stroked Roman’s purple hair. When they would meet again… he would not even remember Virgil.

 

 

It happened few months later. Virgil never forgot Roman while the others sides didn’t even noticed that they lost him. He was hurting every day, cherishing the memory if the friend who allowed himself to be forgotten.

That morning when Virgil walked into the common room, he could felt that vibrations changed. Something was in the air. Something dangerous, both sweet and poisonous. Familiar and stranger. Savory and sweet. Missed but unwanted.

His hair was dark brown with a cold pinch of icy purple. The color of royalty. The black suit with dark, crimson sash looked almost familiar. Except that the patch was gone. Roman glanced at Virgil, smiling dangerously. There was no warm light in his eyes.

“P-princey?” stuttered Virgil.

“Prince?” laughed Roman “Honey, I’m a  _king_.”

A new side was born.  

No memories attached. No feelings. No past.

Its name was Apathy.


	2. Twirling Spirits

“No, no! You don’t understand…” whined Virgil once again. Why was it so hard? Why was his presence so transitory? He was there, how could they not remember him? “Look again! T-this video!” Virgil leaning over the couch, clicked the video once again. The first shot was showing Logan and Virgil bit his lip. Maybe this time… Maybe somehow it would work.

There he was. Roman Sanders in his Gryffindor glory. He was smiling. It felt like they were filming this video just yesterday. Tears filled Virgil’s eyes as he, trying to ignore the lump is his throat, paused the video. Roman’s bright, proud smile, a little bit blurry but still clear like crystal.

“Who’s that?” he asked quietly.

Logan looked over his shoulder “That’s Roman, Virgil. Why are you asking such ridiculous question?” Virgil’s breath hitched. Maybe this time it would work. He closed the laptop and, after taking a deep breath, asked again:

“Who appeared in this video that we’ve just watched?”

“Well, of course there was Thomas…” started counting down Patton, finger resting on his lip “…Logan… and you… and me… Just like always!” Patton smiled at Virgil, not even realising how his fellow’s side heart was breaking, dripping with the mix of purple and crimson blood.

“Logan, do you remember anyone else?” asked weakly Virgil even though he already knew the answer. As expected the side that evolved into the mix of Creativity and Logic only shook his head.

No one else appeared in the video.

 

 

“You can’t stand here, Logan!” the fire in Virgil’s eyes stopped Logan for a moment.

No, he wouldn’t let that happen. No one could take Roman’s place. Besides Logan already had his own spot! There was only one person who could stood in front of the black, slick screen and that person… Virgil gulped… That person couldn’t make it this time.

“Virgil, I don’t understand why you demand me to stay here, when it would make so much sense if I stood between Patton and you. After all I have traits of both left and right side of the brain.” pointed Logan adjusting his glasses. “Care to explain why you have objections?”

Why was it so hard? How could Virgil explain that it was Roman’s old place when their Roman wasn’t even here. How could he fight in the name of the embodiment of a knight when the prince had already fallen? His vision was going blurry and purple from the tears he so desperately tried to keep inside him. He was fighting alone. The only person that remembered Roman was Virgil and he had never felt more lonely than now.

“Changes like this simply make me more anxious.” declared finally Virgil, each word heavier than a boulder. Technically it wasn’t even a lie. Feeling that someone, even Logan, could stand in Roman’s place was just too frightening. Too suffocating.

As much as Virgil knew that Roman didn’t remember him anymore, he hadn’t lose hope that old Creativity was still somewhere there, buried inside. Covered with dust and cut with sword, somewhere deep down Apathy, there was Roman that Virgil found slowly dying in front of his roomless door.

Logan nodded slowly. “Well, if that’s the case I shall remain in here for now but we will go back to this conversation. Now Thomas, since we’re all here, I would like to discuss quite a few new video ideas…” started Logan. It was still weird seeing the old logical side describing new projects so vividly. All of his ideas were of course very good, each of the videos Logan was in charge of so far, had been a huge success but Virgil saw it. They were different than when Roman was still among them. The humour was there. The cone of originality was spinning constantly but… there was always a line. Logan didn’t step anywhere further than his logical core let him go. There were no dragon witches, no samurai swords and puppies. Something was lacking and the realization that the others didn’t felt the empty niche was even more devastating.

“Virgil?” asked Logan firmly, bringing the anxious trait back on earth “Virgil, do you have any suggestions that you wish to share with us? Any ideas?”

Silence fell in the room. Thick and heavy. It was clear that he hadn’t been listening and yet he felt that he wasn’t the source of the cloud that was slowly covering everything around them. Sticking to the skin, gently caressing the tension in the air. Something was hanging above them and Virgil could feel it. He moved uncomfortably, anxiously pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over his fingers. Was he seeing things or did Thomas’s face flinch? Was he just being delusional or did the room grow darker? If he broke the silence, would the fog fade? The clock on the wall in front of him lazily was counting down the seconds, violently pushing the time forward.

 

 

 

He appeared out of nowhere. Sitting on the top of the stairs, silent but cautious. A small, bored smile was quirking up his lips. Eyes were slowly scanning the room. The feeling of being omitted felt somehow familiar, almost homey but Apathy couldn’t place it quite right. He liked watching the room grow more red. The air filled with the scent of roses.

This color was following him on his every step. It was like the sound the waves, when one was moving closer and closer to the sea. At first it was faint and shy but grew louder with every minute, filling the space in your lungs and painting the visions in your head. It was much more than a sound, it was a feeling.

And so was Apathy’s red.

 

First was soft, pastel rosy blush.

Crawling up the walls. Like an innocent flush on the cheeks of little girl.

Next was red that reminded of melting, in the sunset, clouds hanging above the sea.

But it grew darker quickly.

Now it was red of the warm sand. The sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon. And the sand would be cold soon. It was this shade of red. Nostalgic and cold.

The sand started roaming, slowly turning into something deeper and soon the color was more fresh.

Red like a smashed strawberry that no one wants to buy.

Then- ruby like a passionate, heated kiss of a lover that would betray you soon.

Next was mahogany. The color of a broken heart that belongs to no one, not even you.

Finally the color fell into crimson.

Like unnecessary spilled dry, innocent blood.

Crimson like the sash crossing his chest.

Garnet like a red blood pumping through his veins.

Everything was red.

 

_ [Red, like death, perhaps.](https://quietlypondering.tumblr.com/post/172755380278/red-so-because-i-loved-royallyanxious-s-fic) _

 

Apathy smiled to himself. What a adorable coincidence that his own name also started with the same, exact letter.

R like in “red”.

R like in “Roman”.

R like in “royal”.

He looked down, his gaze, a little bit hazy, travelled around the room.

The anxious one was growing restless. Pity that he hadn’t spotted Roman yet. No one had actually. The crimson tightly hugging the room was left unnoticed too. Just as expected Roman would have to take care of it alone. Bothersome.

Dark eyes slipped across the room, watching his red empire. He was a king, sitting higher than everyone else, hidden in the shadows, watching them like audience following the actions of the main protagonist. Only that in this scenario he was the main actor and they were just mere ants, busy with their limited life. The world seemed much more entertaining from above. Apathy wasn’t keen on many things but the beauty of certain color… that he could appreciate. And the scene beneath him was dripping with red. So beautiful. The problems of these people standing downstairs were so small, not even worth his attention, not even worth thinking about. What was the point?

“So the idea would revolve around…” one word cut Roman’s ears deeply. Idea? It cut deeper than just his ears. It cut painfully inside his head and hit right in the middle of his heart, making it both heavy and light. What a strange feeling. Not bad, not good. Just strange. Idea. Sending a shiver down his spine. He could feel goosebumps from beneath his black uniform. Idea. Something was tempting about this word. Sweet and sour at once. Exotic like a faraway country and familiar like an apple-pie. And it was enough to push him to get moving. It was enough to ignite small spark of unknown in his stomach.

Apathy clicked his tongue, slowly getting up and, step by step, walking down the stairs. It was pure delight to watch the change on the faces of these people.

 

The host was confused. He had never seen Apathy before.

Patton apparently was a little bit concerned, his eyes travelling from the new visitor back to Thomas.

Logan was the one who used the term “idea”. There was something fierce about his posture. About the look in his eyes.

And then, there was Virgil. Roman didn’t like the look on his face. It was as if Anxiety knew something that Apathy didn’t. And that was unsettling.

“Idea? Oh, I have one.” Roman stopped in the middle of the stairs, folding his arms on the chest, not even remotely aware of the wave of hope that his words raised in Virgil’s heart.

The red sash rustled quietly, piercing the silence. The anticipation was tickling even the dust dancing in the air. “The idea is called: don’t bother, darling. My words are a matter of pride, it’s a waste of your time.” Apathy’s teeth shined as a bored, inattentive smile bloomed on his face, smooth words coming out of his mouth like a lullaby.

“And… Em… Sorry to ask but… who are you?” stuttered Thomas finally, trying to wear off the first shock.

“Oh, kiddo that’s-” started Patton.

“Apathy.” finished the said side himself.

“Finally decided to crawl out of your cave?” drawled Logan sharply. Roman laughed melodically, slightly leaning his head back.

“No, actually I stepped out of the shadow, dearest. Don’t make me a filthy, sleek reptile when I’m clearly the King.” He stretched out his hand, examining the nails with a bored expression plastered on his face. “Undisputed. Respect. Saluted.” slim fingers rested on the balustrade again, and a spark lightened up Apathy’s eyes as he continued, enjoying the attention he was getting. “Besides… you may call me Roman. Apathy sounds way too plain, anyway.”

Virgil abruptly drew in the rosy scent.

Roman’s lips stretched in self-contented smile. The stir had been done. His presence had been emphasised. They didn’t even notice when the wave of dispersion and lethargy flooded their minds. Just like Apathy had planned this out.

Golden thread of triumph stitched Roman’s shattered, crimson heart, only to let it crumble again.

Emotions like that weren’t worth his time.


	3. Poisoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood, Deceit

“I’m so glad to have you here, Apathy.” told him Deceit once.

Roman rested his chin on the palm, leaning over the arm of his chair. He had a visitor in his room. The royal persona _had_ to be up. No, mistake. It was _always_ up. He was _always_ royal. He was the King. He felt like one.

Everything in his room except of him was beamed. The walls, the furniture, the unwanted guest. The edges were almost melting in the eyes. Sometimes liquid like water, something airy like helium. Only one person seemed real to Roman- he himself.

“And why is that so?” asked Apathy, tilting his head a little bit, arching his eyebrow. The yellow eye of the visitor was digging holes in Roman’s face. As if that snake was trying to look through him. But there was nothing to look through. He wasn’t a paper-thin glass. He was a diamond, complicated and shiny with edges so sharp that they could cut the air. Something meant to be admired, not analyzed. A diamond that could appear to have so many forms depending on how one looked at it. Red, luxurious diamond in the color of fresh blood, one that you couldn’t look through. Roman knew that unwrapping him was a toilsome challenge, after all he built his walls that way on purpose. No one was allowed to see his secrets. Not until he decided to reveal them himself. Not until he himself would discover them. It was his world. And it was his final words that made the difference. Trying to win against him in Apathy’s own room? What a naive and lubricious concept.

 

_How offending._

 

“I’ve felt lonely... Here in conscious space, all alone.” said Deceit almost dreamingly and Roman once again asked himself if it was truth that he was always lying.

“You had the Light Sides.” pointed Roman playing with the faint cloud of dark, almost black fog forming between his fingers.

Deceit smiled, exposing a row of white teeth. A smile that would sent chills down to the spines of most of people, didn’t impress Roman at all. He repressed a yawn.

 

“They are no fun.” huffed out Deceit, a shadow of disappointment in his voice “So morally correct. Even puppeting them can get boring over some time.”

Roman moved his gaze from the fog back at Deceit. Apathy didn’t manipulate. It was way too primitive for him. He didn’t need to manipulate to make people fear of him when he needed. He didn’t need to manipulate to drag the attention away. Working with Deceit? Even the thought of that was somehow disturbing. Lying was the ugliest way to get what one wanted. Lacked delicacy, lacked elegance. Roman was much refined than that.

Even the aesthetics wasn’t something that could persuade him. Deceit’s yellow was like a disease in his room. Didn’t match Apathy’s red at all. At the end yellow drops in the blood couldn’t mean anything good.

“Puppeting you say?” hummed Roman seemingly entertained. But his smile dropped as fast as it appeared in the corners of his lips “Puppeting? I wonder if that’s what you’re planning to do with me. Because it’s only fair for me to warn you, darling...” Roman’s voice grew darker “As a special offer for today, I'll tell you what I'll do... If you try to make me your own puppet, you’ll regret it. Very soon.” He watched the words sink as though they were an ink and Deceit was a sheet of paper.

“You may take your leave now.” Apathy added before Deceit was able to form a response.

The dark side quietly got up. Roman saw anger and bitterness in his eyes and that view ignited a spark satisfaction. There were no reduced charges in Apathy’s kingdom. Neither for the Light nor the Dark Sides. Roman leaned his head back, resting it against the wall, watching Deceit approach the door, behind half-closed eyelids. He wanted to be alone. Socializing was so tiring. The atmosphere was so draining. Putting effort made his head hurt in numb pain. He wanted to leave this space, his own room, the throne room he created at his own resemblance. Because sometimes being himself, being Apathy, being king, was tiring. Deceit stopped in front of the door with his hand on the handle and Roman had to resist the urge to groan with annoyance.

 

_Why can’t people just listen to him?_

 

“You act as if you knew everything while in reality you know nothing.” drawled Deceit through clenched teeth, the shadow threw by his hat was hiding half of his reptile face. “And sometimes it would be better for you to show me some respect. For your own good, Roman.” he said slowly and his yellow eye shimmered in twisted, inner light.

Rage raised up in Apathy’s heart and before he realized what he was doing he had Deceit pinned to the wall, the sharp tip of Roman’s sword dangerously licking side’s throat.

“See? You’re not always as apathetic as you want to be. Your heart is too passionate for that.” breathed out Deceit but this time he didn’t sound as bound and determined as he had few seconds ago.

Roman laughed, feeling dark heart beating fast under the pressure of his hand. That sound, cold and calculated, immediately put down the flame in Deceit’s eyes. Apathy leaned slowly, shadow-touching his ear.

“I don’t like you, honey.” purred Roman gently. “I hate manipulators. And you are not in the position to analyze me.” He could almost see the blood running through the veins in Deceit’s neck. The red noise that he could smell with his nose was prickly and rusted.  Roman tilted his head back, giving himself the pleasure to watch Deceit’s face “Read my lips and come to grips with reality... I. Owe. You. Nothing.” he lowered his sword and let his hand slip off Deceit’s chest “I also don’t remember letting you use my name.” Apathy stepped back, watching his wimp trying to come to his senses.

“Leave.”

This time Deceit didn’t consider staying longer. He ran out of the room, frantically gripping his chest, almost bumping into Virgil in the process.

“He’s even worse than before....” The dark side hissed out before disappearing down the corridor.

Virgil with wide opened eyes watched Deceit walking away in hurry, clearly disturbed. He didn’t even realize when the russet door, he was waiting for so long to open, closed firmly.

 

\---

 

Apathy found the theatre few months ago, soon after appearing in the waves of fog that smelt like metallic blood. And he liked being here even since then. Something about it was calling for his heart, for his soul. The song was silent and yet so loud that it was making his head spin. But he didn’t mind. It was comforting, much more comforting than he was willing to admit.

He shouldn’t grow too attached. He knew that. It was in his nature. It _should_ be in his nature to just let it be. But the temptation was so sweet. Deep down in his heart he fancied anchoring himself somewhere at least for a while. That blurry illusion of being at the right place was glimmering at him under the beamed lights of abandoned theatre. Thick drops of blood were dripping at him like tears, covering the wooden floor with dark, wet stains.

Roman looked up. The rain was coming out of nowhere. The scent of dust in the air was replaced with something sweeter, reminding him of fruit maybe. He reached out his hand trying to catch the drops raining from the ceiling of the room. But there was no use, they seemed to leak through his skin and bones before he managed to feel them on his body. Suddenly the crimson tears above his head started forming a shape. Not a minute passed before round, shiny, red apple rested on Apathy’s hand. He tilted his head. Why the apple was here? He didn’t want it there. He just thought about it and it conjured out of nowhere. Something about it made him furious, the blood flushed under his skin, the rage filled his mind. So wrong. So unnecessary. No one asked for this. It looked poisonous.

Apathy’s fingers ripped through the skin and sweet gore ran down his wrist like a stream of hot lava. With all the energy, he kept hidden inside, locked under layers of shadows and facades of carelessness, he threw the apple right into the audience. The wet, splash broke the song of silence, the one which was constantly calling for his heart. The rain stopped raining and just like that the wet stains under his feet disappeared. Roman was desperately drawing the air into his lungs, surprised with his own outburst. He hated heated moments of weakness more than anything else. Moments when he felt revealed, vulnerable, fragile. A low, perilous growl formed down his throat, wild and strange like a rabid beast ready to attack. The hot liquid was boiling in his veins, pumping more and more adrenaline through his heart. He, Apathy, would not be bothered with feelings like that. He shouldn’t care. Always in the grey zone of emotions.

But how could he stay grey when he was red? Always red. Burning red.

Grey had no passion, no flames.

 

_What a bore._

 

The chandelier hanging above him lightened up with blazing fire.

 

_Why can’t the world just listen to him?_

 

He walked off the stage that was trying to make him its actor. Affront in the most hideous form. No one would make him a puppet. Conflicted waves were flooding his body gradually like a pack of wild, bloodlust wolves.

Certain words flung their arms around his troubled mind.

 

_Your heart is too passionate for that._

 

There was a flame burning in his chest. Was that passion too? Or was that fear? The insecurity that the other sides knew too. That, just like Deceit, they held something against him, ready to attack any moment soon. What if they knew his weakness? What if they wanted to destroy him, throw him off his throne? Conduct the coup d’état of the century, crushing the king between their fingers? Letting his crimson remains drip down their clenched pale fists? Squishing the King or playing with him as if he was their puppet?

He wasn’t a puppet.

Nor Deceit’s, not theirs.

Roman walked through the audience, listening to the silent cheers. He climbed upstairs, proudly sitting in the most luxurious box. The plush under his body was cold but pleasantly silky. He leaned a little bit forward scanning every inch of the abandoned theatre. If he loved this place and was the only one who claimed it, did it make it his kingdom? He tried casting away that thought but no matter how hard he pushed it, it kept coming back. Apathy cherished the theatre much more than his room. It was much safer. There were no doors asking to be knocked. No windows to be looked through.

This place… it was old and empty and covered with dust and something about it was making Roman’s soul tremble. The room that was made on Apathy’s resemblance, his throne room, it didn’t feel real. It lacked the core. But Roman knew his own core, didn’t he?

He knew exactly who he was. The person he was... he liked that man. However he was aware of the fact that something was missing in his chest, he had felt it for a while now. He couldn’t say what was that. As if even the memory of that emptiness was vitiated and forgotten. He knew who he was but he wanted this lost puzzle back. Whoever took it - Apathy was going to make sure they regret it.

 

\---

 

They arrived one day without a warning, destroying all the peace Roman had managed to build. They were loud and obnoxious and he wanted nothing more than to kick them out of here. But Apathy simply couldn’t stand the thought of them knowing that it’s his place. And letting them know of his presence could mean only that. So protecting his last private zone, he stayed in his loge upstairs watching the sides and Thomas chattering on the stage, laughing and bickering. He didn’t feel the need to tag along. He just wanted them to leave.

Normally he wouldn’t mind. He enjoyed watching others from above. But it was _his_ place. It was _his_ space. And they were violating it with their cheerful voices. For a moment Roman played with the red fog that was leaking through his fingers. Thick and dangerous for everyone but him. To just let this delightful cloud embrace the whole theatre. As easy as that. But he couldn’t do that. He didn’t want to fill this place with apathy. This theatre was doing things with his mind, it was lifting the weight that was normally burdening his shoulders. He didn’t want to destroy what had already existed in here. Something was alive in this place. Whispering from the walls, rusting like a wind between the rows of seats. And Apathy couldn’t bring himself to silence it with his power. It was too precious.

So he stayed quiet. Sitting above them and at the same time observing them from aside. He had done it before.

Thomas was dividing the roles. The Anxious One seemed even more anxious than usual. Roman weighted small, filled with crimson, heavy fog, ball. Could a shot of his trademark emotion calm down this poor boy? Apathy shook his head and pulled the ball back to his pocket.

 

_Who was Virgil for Apathy to help him?_

 

The atmosphere changed. The air glitched. The energy shifted.

Someone else arrived at last and Apathy tensed.

 

_What was He doing here?_

 

Yellow drop meant nothing good in the ocean of loose red corals.

“I am offended that you didn’t ask me sooner, guys. I loooove theatre.” Deceit’s voice bounced across the room, stroking Apathy’s nerves. Impatiently he watched the reaction of the others. They seemed surprised but didn’t chase Deceit away.

Roman sighed with disappointment.

 

_Cowards._

 

“And Slimy boy is-” beamed Thomas’ voice.

“Director.” purred Deceit loudly enough for Roman to hear that.

Anger hit Apathy like a cold, dirty snowball. It was a familiar feeling- someone trying to snatch the role Roman was born for. He could hardly stand This Individual in here but Him being a director was too much to cope with. _Lese-majesty_. He would not let that happen. Roman closed his eyes firmly, listening to the beating heart of the theatre. When he opened them the stage was slowly getting covered with red, sweet tears raining from the ceiling.

They were surprised. Roman relaxed on his chair. He had it under control. He had everything under control. Nervous questions, sewed with thin thread of fear started patching the air. Deceit cursed loudly before sinking in. Apathy’s lips stretched in a smile. The air smelt much sweeter now. He could stop the rain anytime now.

“Is that your doing, Logan?” laughed Patton awkwardly, watching the drops rolling down his arms.

“I don’t think so, Patton... No, it has never happened before.” Logan shook his head firmly.

“Let’s get out of here…” suggested Thomas.

And as one by one they were sinking, Roman felt that he could breathe again. No one noticed him being here and yet he managed to get rid of these intruders. He fought proudly, till the last drop of blood.

The Anxious One was the last to leave and Apathy didn’t calculate the timing quite well. _Not well enough_. The drops stopped pouring from the artificial, wooden sky. Virgil looked around confused. Roman cursed under his breath, letting out the sound much louder than he intended too. Anxiety’s alert eyes immediately fixed at hidden in the dark, red loge. His gaze softened instantly and Roman shifted on his seat.

 

_He can’t reach me here._

 

“You don’t like us being here, do you?” Virgil’s voice rang in the room but there was no anger, no disappointment and no sadness in it.

Roman’s voice chords shamelessly trembled before he responded:

“He just can’t be a director.”

A moment of stillness stung Apathy’s heart painfully.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Virgil nodded quietly before disappearing from the theatre, leaving the stage empty.

Roman let his chin rest on his chest.

Theatre was doing something with Apathy.

And he couldn’t tell if he liked it or not.


	4. Sketches from the past

Apathy snorted upon seeing Virgil standing in front of his door. How anxious and small did he look, Roman almost felt sorry for him. Almost. It was better, however, to see Virgil than that lying yellow snake. Deceit just didn’t fit into Apathy’s red aesthetic. No deep emotions.

“May I help you?” Roman asked, his voice bored and smooth. Apathy loved his voice, it like a tool that never failed him and that was always ready and willing to be used. He was well-aware that he was intimidating, in fact, he wanted to be intimidating and his voice rich and velvety was an exquisite way to improve the effect.

“May I come in?” squeaked Virgil, looking at the room behind Roman’s back. Apathy leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms on the chest. He slowly rolled his head from one shoulder on another. He could keep up on this act as long as he wanted. It was quite entertaining.

“And why should I let you in?” he raised up his chin, looking at Virgil behind half-closed eyelids. 

“I hoped I could interest you in something.” said Virgil and pointed at the folder in his hand.

“You interest me in something?” echoed Roman and laughed sincerely. “Honey, have you forgot my name?”

Virgil shook his head, slowly losing ground under his feet. “You’re Apathy. Roman Apathy Sanders.”

“Precisely.” nodded Roman, leaning forward. The smile disappeared from his face, though mischievous sparks were still brightening up his glowing, red eyes. “You know who I am and yet you dare to suggest that you can my pique interest? The interest of Apathy?”

“Yes.” said Virgil, staring right into Apathy’s eyes.

Roman let that answer sink into his mind. He looked at Virgil, whose back suddenly straightened up, whose hands were gripping the white folder tightly. He noticed that the folder has little red mark in the corner. It looked like a tiny, fresh drop of blood, beautifully matching the white colour. Putting the purity of the object in shame. Apathy shook his head. He shouldn’t reveal too much of his emotions. Especially interest. Especially with Virgil. It was as though he tried to purposely provoke Apathy and that was not appreciated.

“You’ve intrigued me.” said Roman, surprising even himself. “You may come in.” he added, disappearing in the room.

Hesitantly, Virgil walked into the room. His nostrils filled with the smell of roses. The room was spacious and didn’t remind Creativity-Roman’s room even in the slightest. Maybe except of the luxurious accents. But where Creativity used to have bright cream colours with a splash of fresh red, Apathy had crimson red with splashes of black. It was burning Virgil’s eyes in more ways than just one. But he was determined to try his theory out.

Apathy was waiting for him sitting in the big armchair, his face serious and emotionless. It really felt as though he was a king of this place. Virgil stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, feeling like a deer in the spotlight or a criminal waiting for a trail. Apathy rested his chin on the hand, eyes barely looking at Virgil.

“Oh, right!” clapped Roman, though his voice was flat. He waved the other hand elegantly. Next to him appeared another armchair and a small table. Virgil’s eyes widened. It was another thing Apathy seemed to have in common with Creativity. He was able to conjure things. Definitely something Virgil could work with. “Stop staring at me and sit down.” Apathy clicked his tongue and looked away. His proud profile glowing in the red light.

“Yes, thank you.” nodded Virgil. He assumed that it was better not to make Roman angry. He had always been a passionate one. Both as Creativity and Apathy. Virgil sat on the chair, placing the folder on his legs. He wasn’t sure if he should try a small talk or proceed with the plan immediately.

“So…?” Roman’s silky voice embraced the silence. “You said there was something that may entertain me?” He continued, tilting his head to the left. 

“Right.” agreed Virgil and put the folder on the table. “Here it is.” It was the only warning he gave to Apathy before opening the case.

Apathy leaned over the table, seemingly unaware of Virgil’s attention. Carefully, he took the first sketch into his hand.

“A drawing.” Roman stated calmly.

Virgil gulped, choosing to stay quiet for now. Every word that came from Roman was like a gem for him. Like a raw, bloody diamond.

“Pretty good sketch if I’m not mistaken.” said Roman, holding up another sketch. “The lines are smooth and well-defined. It’s clear that the artist wanted to say something through his art... This one, for example, wasn’t drawn for attention. It was to express something inside… Some emotion, dark emotion, I suppose. If I was…” he stopped all of sudden and shook his head, eyes blinking.

“If you were?” encouraged Virgil, unable to stop the smile from appearing in the corners of his mouth.

Roman glanced at Virgil behind the sketches. His eyes reminded of delicate poppy petals. For a moment they appeared almost warm.

“If I was an artist myself, I could appreciate them better.” Apathy finished and put the drawnings back at the table. “You should take them to Logan, he knows what to do with them. Isn’t he the creative one after all?” he said matter-of-factly. Back of his head rested against the armchair. 

Virgil understood that Roman wasn’t planning on looking at other sketches and his heart sank a little bit. He hid one or two really meaningful drawings between the others in order to surprise Roman. He could see in Apathy’s eyes that he was waiting for Virgil to take the folder away. Instead, Anxiety decided to fiddle with the corner of one of the papers, trying to buy himself some time.

“Aren’t you an artist yourself, Roman?’ he asked quietly.

Apathy blinked slowly before bursting into loud, uncontrolled laughter. It was the most natural laughter Virgil had ever heard coming from Apathy. It wasn’t mocking nor prideful. It was loud, undefined, free. Sounded a little bit as though someone was trying to crush a stone, and a little bit like morning birds singing outside the window. Nothing like old Roman’s laugh and yet painfully similar.

Tears gathered in the corners of Apathy’s eyes as he tried to calm himself down. He looked much more honest, much purer than usually and Virgil’s realized that his own eyes were getting watery too. He quickly wipe them with the sleeve of his hoodie. How he missed hanging out with Roman. Walking through life, hearing his loud, bright laugh and living fanciful dreams. But what hurt him the most was that he, Virgil, was alone with that memory.

He looked at Apathy and his poor attempts of hiding a smile and it made Virgil smile too. Maybe it wasn’t exactly how it used to be, but it was still something. Still worth fighting for. 

“Ah, Virgil, I’ve never thought of you to be the joking type! I was sure it was Patton’s domain. You have surprised me.” Roman smiled but this smile wasn’t as real and honest as the previous one. The moment was over and Apathy was back with his royal facade. “I do not regret inviting you here today.” he nodded slightly and Virgil understood that it was a sign for him to leave. He wanted to stay longer but that would probably be too much for one day. He got up taking the folder from the table which quickly faded in the dark mist.

Slowly, Virgil backed out. He felt Roman’s eyes fixed at the back of his head. Virgil was so preoccupied with analyzing the whole visit that he didn’t even noticed when one of the sketches slipped out of the folder and fell on the ground. The doors closed behind him before he even managed to bid a goodbye.

Apathy sighed. The white sheet of paper was a stain on his room. Just like the red smudge was decorating the folder, the white sheet was destroying the crimson balance in the room. Roman got up and carefully picked up the sketch. He allowed himself to admire the soft brushes of the pencil and well-defined features of the character on the drawing. He didn’t recognize this man, but he felt his pain. The pain of the man on the sketch and the artist were the same. 

The drawing fell back on the floor and Apathy sat on his chair, folding his fingers on the level of his chest. He knew that he let his regal facade crack and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. Maybe after all, the anxious one, was much more dangerous than Deceit.

 

\---

 

Warm shades of summer sunset were coloring the floor with the long lines of gold and orange. The common room fell silent when Virgil finished his story. Story he couldn’t hold back anymore. Patton and Logan deserved the truth as much as he did. He decided to keep that away from Thomas for now though. Poor man would probably feel guilty of the situation. 

“Let me sum everything up, Virgil, because I am quite confused.” said Logan, rubbing his temple. He sighed and slowly sat down on the couch nearby. “So what you’re saying is that before Apathy Roman, there was another Roman who used to be our friend.”

Virgil nodded, waiting for Logan to say more.

“That old Roman…” Logan continued. “Used to be Creativity which, back then, was a separate department of Thomas’ personality. At some point, we don’t know when, Creativite traits started mixing with Logic and I kind of inherited Creativity from Roman who disappeared. But neither Patton nor I had noticed that.”

“Exactly.”

“And we don’t have any memories of past Roman?” asked Logan, his eyes closed.

“It seems so.”

“And no matter how many times you show us video with past Roman, after turning it down, we still don’t remember him. Is that correct?”

“Yep.”

“Yet you do remember him.” stated Logan calmly.

“Perhaps because I caught him red-handed as he was curling up in the corner of his room.” explained Virgil, trying hard to swallow the emotions that gathered in his voice. It’s been months and yet he could still vividly remember Roman begging him not to tell the others. He still regretted listening to that princely fool.

“Allow me to point that it occurs to be a little bit ridiculous to me.” said Logan and opened his eyes. Virgil flushed with frustration and anger. 

“Well, yes but that’s the truth!” 

“We’re not saying that it’s not true, kiddo!” said Patton who was quiet until then. 

“Yes, just because it seems… odd, doesn’t mean that we don’t believe you.” nodded Logan glancing at Patton. Virgil gulped. “However the behaviour you’re talking about is very disturbing. Hiding the truth behind us? If someone knows something about this, it is Deceit. I suggest we visit him immediately.” declared Logan, standing up. Patton instantly followed his example.

Biting his lips, Virgil looked between Logan and Patton. He still wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to tell them about Roman in the first place. It seemed so easy in his head. He dreamt that if he explained the situation, their memories would magically come back. Oh, how naive was he. He only caused more drama. What if it would annoy Roman? If he would see that as a betrayal? If it killed the last chance to get Roman back, Virgil would hate himself till the end of his life.

“What makes me confused is that, aside of side fading away without us noticing that,  I don’t have any memories of Roman at all!” hummed Patton suddenly. “Not even one. As if someone has taken they away from me!” his breath hitched. “This is not normal.”

“Sit and calm down, Patton.” advised Logan.

“I can’t  _ calm down _ when I completely forgot about one of my friends! I’m the heart, it’s my responsibility to remember everyone.” cried Patton angrily. “Now that Virgil told us the story, something in my heart tells me that indeed there was something like seperate Creativity but I still don’t remember Roman as a person! This is exactly the situation in which staying calm is not a proper reaction! Now, are you going to Deceit with me or should I do it alone?” he asked glaring at Logan. Virgil quietly moved closer to Patton.

Logan sighed. “I will go with you. This situation calls for an intervention.” 

“Good.” said Pattonwith relief.

Deceit’s room was situated at the end of the hall, meaning that they had to pass by Apathy’s door. As always they were clearly closed. No one could come inside if he wasn’t invited. In that aspect, Apathy’s room reminded more of a fortress, than a royal palace. Virgil shivered and fixed his eyes on the floor. He shouldn’t be thinking about this right now.

“So who’s gonna knock?” asked Logan quietly as they stood in front of Deceit’s room. Yellow door, seemed to be covered with scales. And maybe they were, or maybe it was the fault of dimmed light, coming from the lamp above them.

In a haze of a moment, Virgil raised his hand and quietly knocked the door. The wood felt strange under his skin. 

They didn’t have to wait for long because, few seconds later, the door opened showing Deceit himself. For a second, surprise was mirroring in his eyes before it was quickly covered with mocking smile and cocky face expression.

“Oh.” he said. “Hello, I did expect you.”

“Cut the crap, you had no idea we would come.” said Virgil, pushing Deceit away and stepping into the room. Logan and Patton sneaked behind him.

“Maybe I did not expect you to come  _ precisely _ right now but  _ surely _ I was expecting you to come.” hummed Deceit closing the door. His voice was rustling in their ears. Lies always sound sugary sweet, after all. “So what brought you here?” he asked, turning around to face them.

“Roman.” Logan’s voice was cold like a steel, sharp like a knife.

“Apathy?” asked Deceit innocently.

“But why, is it any other Roman you would like to tell us about?” Patton crossed arms on his chest and Deceit cursed, realizing that he got caught up in his own lie.

The corner of Logan’s lips twitched. He sat down on a chair. Deceit took a seat on the opposite side of the table, while Patton and Virgil stood behind Logan’s back. 

“So tell us more, about this  _ other  _ Roman that you so carelessly implied.” encouraged Logan, leaning over the surface of the table.

Deceit hissed in response.

“We don’t have time for your games, Deceit.” Logan said coldly.

The dark side looked between Logan and Virgil and rested his back on the chair. He appeared much more relaxed than few seconds later.

“Why won’t you ask Virgil over here? I’m sure he remembers Roman as well as I do. Or even better.” shrugged Deceit, eyeing Virgil, who shivered under the pressure of the snake-like eye. Patton gently squeezed his hand.

“Virgil told us everything he knew!” clarified Patton. “What bugs me is that something wiped off the memories of old Roman that I used to have.”

“Not even one pun about bugs, Patton? I am truly disappointed…” Deceit shook his head, smiling lightly.

“Stick to the subject.” reminded Virgil.

“Oh, look at you Virge. Suddenly taking over the role of the prince in shining armour? How noble of you.” Deceit looked at his fingers. “Maybe that’s why Roman faded, huh? Maybe it was your fault from the beginning…” he suggested smugly.

“I won’t fall into your trap.” Virgil cut shortly. “I’m too familiar with your lies.”

“Oh, yes. Right. How could I forgot?” Deceit raised his eyes and for a moment all that could be seen were his eyes’ whites. “And why are you familiar with them?”

“I used to be a dark side.” admitted Virgil. It wasn’t something he was proud of but he had already told the other sides about that, so there was no point in hiding this. He might as well give Deceit what he wanted.

Deceit snapped his fingers and pointed at Virgil. “Exactly. That’s what we have in common. Originally we are the dark sides. Living in the shadows. Sneaking out when no one can see us. Doing all the ‘bad’ stuff.”

“Let’s go,” said Logan suddenly, getting up from the chair. “He clearly isn’t interested in telling us more.” He quickly turned around so that Deceit was facing his back.

“Wait!” Deceit stopped them. He couldn’t see the smile that for a short moment appeared on Logan’s face.

“Oh? So you do know something?” asked Logan, seemingly surprised. He rested his hand on the back of the chair.

“I know why you two don’t remember him.” Deceit looked at the wall. “I couldn’t do anything about Virgil’s memory since he has already been immune to my influence…” Virgil smirked slightly and Deceit took a short break to take a deep breath. “But when it comes to the two of you… Roman didn’t want you to remember him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ewww, sorry that you had to wait for so long
> 
> if you have any questions about Apathy you can hit me up on my tumblr: @royallyanxious
> 
> if you liked this fic you can consider buying me a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/C0C7D2YP


	5. A binded butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apathy is doubtful

Something changed and Apathy felt that. He felt that in his soul, dark and mysterious. He felt that in his bones, fragile but strong. He felt that in his blood, ruby-red, hot and fresh. And he felt that in his heart, if he even had one.

Surpassingly, the changes weren’t  _ that _ unsettling. He was used to fear and uncertainty, they were cold, sure, but at the same time - pleasantly familiar. He was so used to living with questions in his head that he didn’t even notice when they started tattooing his body from inside. Being alone gave him space he needed and being scared alone wasn’t the thing that he hated so much. He assumed it was normal to have these doubts. Doubts about himself. Doubts that caused fear. 

What was unsettling, however, was the poorly hidden look  _ they  _ exchanged between themselves. Almost as though,  _ they _ wanted Apathy to notice it. Worried looks laced with secret that was thin like a spider-web and same as sticky. And Apathy? Apathy was an emperor butterfly brutally captured and locked. He wasn’t alone anymore. The spider was hiding in the plain sight. Apathy could see the web but he couldn’t see the main thread and the villain in the shadows. 

Only there were no shadows.

There was, however, a rebellion. And it was apparently running right under Roman’s nose but, though he was aware of it, he couldn’t do anything. His magnificent wings were bind with an iron ribbon. Ribbon that felt frigid against his skin. Between his  shoulder-blades. Ribbon like a dagger. Instead of silk it decorated Apathy’s skin with a long streams of scarlet, thick wine. 

The king was no fool and he wasn’t weak either. He was simply alone and hopeless and the fact that these words were left unspoken, didn’t help him at all.

Roman opened the door of his room, desperately trying to let the fresh air into the hollow corridors of his soul. There were no stains on his royal attire. No battle scars and no deep wounds. He was the only one that knew the fear that was shaking his body. The battle was silent and it was supposed to remain like that forever.

As soon as the light coming from the corridor, reached his feet he felt his back straightening, his chin raising up and his eyes narrowing. And he felt empowered again. It felt good. Natural even.

His footsteps were silent, as silent as the demons in his soul. His feet discretely sinking in the floor. Strange, since Roman would have sworn that the floor was wooden but perhaps he remembered it wrong. After all, you can’t demand king to remember everything. Or maybe what he assumed to be a memory was simply a dream. Dream that twisted his reality as though he was ill. Mad maybe. He lived in fog after all.

The room was full of sides but Roman saw no one. He couldn’t see real people, he only saw his eyes. Hidden behind long eyelashes, traitorous glasses and hideous scales. Unfocused but constantly watching. Roman growled, sound as low and deep as if he was a wild beast. It sound shiver down his own spine.

“Suddenly, you are all friends.” Apathy heard his own voice. It was powerful. So powerful that in fact it made him feel small against himself. Who was Roman against Apathy? No one. No one he was. 

There were no faces, no answer neither. Only empty words, that didn’t quite reach his ears.

He learnt that he had no heart. It died long time ago and the blood in his veins wasn’t as fresh as he thought. But it didn’t matter, since no one besides of him knew that. 

“In case you forgot, I have offered an alliance.” Said Deceit and something stung Roman’s chest.  _ Alliance.  _ He laughed and a wave of red fog fell upon the room. Patton started coughing. Maybe he was the one that took care of Apathy’s heart? The laughter grew louder.

Blue eyes couldn’t hide what the heart felt quite well and Roman was very content with this. He didn’t feel that alone anymore. He slightly raised his hand, twisting his wrist a little bit. His fingers played an old melody in the air. Music filled his and only his ears. The fog immediately ran back to him, like a bunch of scared dogs. 

“There’s no such thing as alliance.” Grinned Roman, almost wishing he had a cape to turn around with a good dose of dramatism. It was good thought. Familiar and warm. Warm like the secret he didn’t know. It was warm too.

He left the room alone.

This time his footsteps weren’t quiet. Not for him at least. Every time his foot touched the ground, whole world around him was shaking. Roman had no idea where he was going but he knew the essence of destination. And it wasn’t warm. It was cold and confidential. Sacrum in eyes of others but profane for him.  

He wasn’t deaf and the heard the whispers. The walls were whispering behind him and each wall was like a new bar of his prison. 

For the first time his kingdom was listening to him, as he wished but suddenly he didn’t want this kind of power.

“He changed so much, he was so much different when he used to be his old self, I can feel it. We have to help him!” It was Patton’s voice that’s for sure.

“I feel like a burglar, that took something away from him and he didn’t even realize.” For the first time Apathy heard Logan’s voice shake.

“I don’t know who is he anymore…” Virgil was on the verge of crying.

“It was his last plea.” Even Deceit!

One more footstep and the whispers around Apathy stopped  and the world, his world, was crimson again.

His eyes were glowing red when Roman found himself in the middle of his theatre. How tired he was. How reluctant to be here and now, not to mention being there and then. How bothersome everything was. Apathy  let out a shaky breath. 

The crown on the top of his head was a little bit crooked.

Gently, in complete silence, he let his eyelids close. The colorful dreams exploded in his head. His head started hurting from the amount of colours. He wanted to keep himself focused but it was too much and he directed his attention back at the stains of red. It brought peace into his strange body but tremor into his soul.

Eyes opened rapidly, hazy and dark with fear and desire.

He had always dreamt to be a king. Great balls, fashionable clothes, respect and courtesy.

His legs were dangling off the edge of the scene. The drops rolling down his cheeks were sharp like knives, poisonous like quicksilver and left marks crimson with malaise.

Apparently he used to have heart but it was taken away from him.

It was unsettling. 

And maybe if Roman wasn’t a king, he would even admit that in this exact moment, he realized that his fire wasn’t royal red anymore. It was flood and set off with a bloody wave of sadness. Dirty and disgustingly hot. Beating like a living animal, a memory of times that were never to come.

Who, in fact, was Apathy?

And was Apathy, in fact, real?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this being so short... Any feedback is well-appreciated.


	6. A snapdragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle up

Over past few weeks Apathy had grown to be a shadow of his old self. He rarely left his room and when he did it was only to aimlessly wander around the mindspace, throw a glance after a glance - all of them full of spite - and go back to his room or to the theatre. At the end even walking around the space became hard for him as the crown on his head was growing heavy with ruby-coloured pieces of memories.

Because at this point Apathy knew. He was careful while gathering information but once he started, it was easy to collect all the pieces. He was now aware of the fact that he had not always been Apathy. That fact existed in him but at the same time, he didn’t feel it. It was like an information taken from a dictionary. Dry and easy to forget, easy to brush away. And Apathy was a fire! He was meant to burn forever, waver in the air like a flag. Strong and visible. He was meant to be alive and eternal, not a term that was meant to be put in dictionary. Or a guinea pig born to be another experiment.

That’s why life had become so draining for him. That was why every look of The Anxious One was harder to bare. Because, now in every look, Apathy saw pity and longing and he couldn’t stand it. Because he knew what the other sides were longing for. And it wasn’t Apathy. To him, it looked like they were chasing a fantasy. Magical fairy that was long lost in the hot muzzle of the dragon.

He, Apathy, The King, sneered and hung his knee over the arm of his throne. 

“Creativity.” he said out loud, his face twisting as if he ate a sour bloody pomegranate. “Creativity, you little bitch...” he repeated the name, trying to make it less strange, trying to bring it closer to his dark heart. He failed.

Roman closed his eyes, letting heavy eyelids fall down, covering the crimson fire burning in his soul. 

“You little bitch.” he said again, this time much slower, savouring the insult on his tongue. He tapped the pocket on the level of his heart. The one which was hiding a sketch of his past self. 

“You destroyed everything.” roared Apathy, swifty pulling the sketch out. 

The drawing was showing a man, half of his face stained with a shadow but even despite that Apathy could see the striking resemblance of the man on the sketch with himself. In a moment on weakness he teared the paper into a half and allowed it to softly fall on the ground. Him trying to tear it apart didn’t change anything. It was still covered with lines while Apathy desperately wanted the paper to be blank. 

He needed- no, he wanted a blank page.

A low scoff rumbled in his throat. Dangerous, wild and demanding. He wanted the life that was meant for him. He wanted power and, above all, he wanted to be himself. The emotions were tormenting Apathy’s soul and he didn’t want this to happen. With a snap of his fingers, red fire lightened up two cursed pieces of paper. The portrait was twisting in a flames looking less and less like Roman and more and more like Apathy’s fiery heart.

Finally, all that was left were two even piles of ash. Apathy waved his hand and the ash started dancing on the ground, until it completely disappeared into the thin air. It didn’t take his burden away.

Roman rested chin on his palm, methodically trying to sort the facts in his head. But he wasn’t logical like The Logical One was. Roman was passionate like a burning match and just as easy to burn out apparently. 

How furious Apathy was that one, seemingly irrelevant, thing had poisoned his mind. After all what did it matter that he used to be Creativity? What did it change? The ties were long cut and Roman himself had no vivid memories of that time. It should not matter. It should be a fact left in the dictionary. 

And yet something in his heart was longing for truth. The hunger was like a disease, eating him alive. No matter how many times Apathy explained to himself that he should move on… he couldn’t. Hence to which he was spending yet another day locked in his own kingdom, empty and cold. 

With slight difficulty Roman raised up his head and fluttered his eyelids.

The hall in front of him was long and seemed almost never-ending. But Apathy knew exactly what was on the other side of the room. It was a door. And it wouldn’t open. Even though they belonged to Roman. And apparently fate had deemed it hilarious because it created the same door in the theatre. And none of them were letting Roman inside.

Quiet like a mouse, sly like a fox and fearless like a lion, surpassing a fake yawn, Apathy stepped down from his throne. The air twitched impatiently and Roman formed a fist, trying to tangle the tension in the air into a bullet. When he opened his palm, it was empty. No weapon for him. He clenched his teeth and started angrily walking down the hall. There were only two exits from this room. One behind Roman and the other one - in front of him. And Apathy had no intention in going back, he wanted break with the past by conquering future, not running away from it.

Not for the first time the hall, his hall, seemed longer than earlier. The crown on Apathy’s head was crooked, his outfit wrinkled but his eyes - full of determination. So he kept walking. He wasn’t going to give up. If something made him antsy, he was going to get rid of the problem. That’s what a kings do. They don’t run away. They fight.

So when sharp wind started blowing in his face, Roman didn’t stop nor turned back. He had a purpose and there was nothing that could stop him. The wind started blowing harder but Apathy only smiled.

“Pathetic.” he yelled at the wind and laughed mockingly. An extremely strong blow of wind  knocked off the crown from Roman’s head. He didn’t look back, though the sound of shattering glass and crystal clear ruby diamonds was ringing in his head. “You have to try harder than that.” He yelled again.

He wasn’t angry anymore. A challenge like this seemed suitable for a king. And somehow, Apathy felt and knew that he was going to win. Because after all it was his game. His floor that reminded of chess board, his statues on the both side of the hall. His rules, that he had written in his head long time ago in the future.

“Bring it on.” Roman whispered.

And suddenly billion grains of sand appeared in the wind. They were just same sharp, sharp enough to cut Apathy’s skin and get into his hair and eyes. First drop of blood rolled down his cheeks but he didn’t bother to wipe it off. It was pleasantly warm and real. Another drop rolled down soon after the first one. The next thing Apathy knew was that it was now pouring with bloody rain.

“Been there, done that!” he sing-songed evilly, remembering the moments spent on stage in the teatre. 

Something in his soul started boiling, started stirring because he could feel that maybe he is getting a step closer to opening the door. His palace had never reacted to him like that.

Yet there was no shade of worry nor fear in Apathy’s heart. It was constantly pumping red, hot blood into his veins. And he felt alive. He didn’t feel apathetic at all and at this moment he had realized that maybe he never truly felt that way. The realization hit him like a bullet, piercing his body, opening his insidings to the world. Suddenly it was hard for him to draw in the air. It wasn’t raining more. All grains of sand were spread underneath his feet. Not even a blow of wind was tangled in his hair. 

Apathy stumbled back, closing his eyes. He felt dizzy. His hand absently started looking for a sword that should be hanging by his belt. His hand landed on an empty spot. With a mixture of confusion and rush of excitement, Roman opened his crimson eyes. And what a view he saw.

The floor was covered with a thick layer of colorful sand and only now did he realize that in fact it wasn’t sand but a tiny pieces of glass, reflecting life and all its colours. It sparkled under the bright, almost white moon. White without a stain it was a blank page shining above of him. It was night time. 

The room that he found himself at had no end, and every inch of the floor was covered with dust made out of glass. Roman took a step forward. The glass softly crumbled under his feet but it sounded like a melody or a lullaby maybe even. He took another step forward and something clicked behind his back. He quickly turned around, only to see a door. 

It was the same door that he fought so fiercely for.

Only now he was on the other side of them.

And they were closed again. 

He grabbed the door knob and tried to open them. It didn’t work. He was locked inside. But strangely enough, Roman didn’t mind that even in the slightest. 

So he left the door behind and started walking further into the strange land. He felt like Alice but he couldn’t tell if it’s Wonderland or if he was watching the world through the looking-glass.

Peace and quiet were embracing his ears and heart for the first time in months. Not even a shadow of fear was falling upon his heart. Apathy adjusted his sash and crouched. His fingertips gently touched the colorful pieces of glass. And it danced under his touch, creating a mesmerizing vision.

On the ground, under Roman’s feet, he could see himself from above, surrounded with the other sides. For some strange reason he wasn’t wearing his regal attire but sweatpants. And he was laughing but it wasn’t a cold laugh, he was so used to. It was a laugh that was lighting up the room and eyes of the listeners. 

Apathy turned away his gaze. The vision flickered and disappeared, leaving him with a dessert of memories. Roman sighed deeply and delicately allowed the glassy wisp of memoir to crawl on his hand and then under his sleeve. He felt it moving against his skin, moving closer and closer to his heart. He could feel it as it sank into his body. His heart skipped a beat for a moment and the memory settled back in Apathy’s soul.

The man straightened up his back and slowly looked around himself. He had time, he had all time in the world to penetrate the wildest corners of subconsciousness. 

He had time to find every piece of himself that he felt he was lacking.

He had time to find his truest core.

Suddenly a verse of a song made its way to Apathy’s vocal cords.

_ “Who holds the reigns in the promised land?” _

He took another step forward into the land of scattered and old forgotten memories.

\---

This whole situation was making Virgil even more paranoid than he usually was. Not to mention that he actually felt bad for himself. For so long Virgil was waiting for Roman to come downstairs as Old Creativity, that he didn’t even notice when he started liking snarky and mean Apathy. His absence was just… unsettling.

Because Apathy was out of sight for over a week now. And even earlier he seemed to be a little bit out of place. More than usually. In fact, Virgil couldn’t remember when was the last time he saw Roman appear in the red mist or at least turned all the pillows’ colours into crimson. Yes, maybe Apathy was nowhere to be found for over a week but he was absent for much longer.

Suddenly a gasp got stuck in Virgil’s throat, painfully clogging respiratory system. 

“It has happened before…” he whispered to himself, standing up from his chair abruptly.

Logan sitting in front of him, arched his eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, Virgil but could you speak louder if you want us to hear you?” he asked politely, glancing at Patton who was knitting in the corner.

“Guys…” stuttered out Virgil. 

Patton put down his halfly-finished scarf and adjusted the glasses. 

“What is it, kiddo?” he asked, visibly concerned.

“When was the last time you saw Apathy?” Virgil asked, words barely making it out from his parted, reddened lips. 

Logan closed his book with a soft and warm rustle. He calmly put it down, resting it in the corner of the table. His calm movements were out of place.

“It must have been a week ago, I assume.” admitted Logan, crossing arms on his chest. He was looking at Virgil expecitvely, waiting for the explanation behind this question. “Patton?” he asked, looking at the moral side with the corner of his blue eyes.

“Hmmm… Let me see…” hummed Patton thoughtfully, “It must have been more than a week… But it’s so hard to tell nowadays… Recently, Roman’s more like a ghost than an actual side.”

If it was possible Virgil’s face grew even paler, his dark pupils widened and his whole body started shaking before he, akin to a leaf, fell back on his chair. Patton was next to him in an instant of a second. Even Logan got up from his chair.

“Kiddo?” Patton asked worryingly, “Are you okay? Tell us what happened!” he demanded.

“We have to check Roman’s room....” breathed out Virgil heavily, “Like… now…” he added and not bothering to wait up for either Logan or Patton, stormed down the hallway.

Soon enough, they were all standing in front of Apathy’s door, deemed in red light that was hanging above their heads. Virgil took a deep breath and loudly knocked the door. The sound echoed down the hall, lurking Deceit out of his room. Out of precaution he opted for staying in the door of his own lair, watching Virgil’s actions with curiosity. And Virgil knocked once again, this time the noise was accompanied with his shaking voice:

“Apathy! It’s me, Virgil… emm.. The anxious one! I need to talk!” another loud knocking, “Urgently!”

Virgil stepped behind, giving the door some space to open. But nothing happened. Logan and Patton exchanged concerned looks, still not sure what was going on. Virgil’s breathing hitched.

“Apathy? Roman?” he asked again, this time in much weaker voice, trying his best to stay calm. But anxiety was already building up in his stomach.  “Are you there?” he barely whispered putting his hand over the smooth surface of the door.

Then with the last spark of hope Virgil put his hand on the doorknob and turned it, trying to open the door. It didn’t even screech, remaining as locked and well-secured as an ancient tomb. 

Logan shot a glare at Deceit who dared to step closer to the scene.

“Is that your doing?” Logan asked firmly but Deceit only shook his head.

“I have no idea what is going on.” replied Deceit innocently.

“And we believe you... why exactly?” interrogated Logan.

“No reason.” Deceit shrugged unbothered with the increase of tension in the air, “But I’m telling the truth.”

“Let it go, Lo.” Patton said, putting his hand on Logan’s shoulder in a calming manner.

Only Virgil remained silent during the whole conversation. His shoulders were hunched and his head ducked down.

“I did it again, didn’t I?” he asked quietly, silencing the talking sides behind him.

“Mind to explain us, Virgil?” inquired Logan.

“Because we are all a little bit lost, kiddo.” added Patton, trying to sooth the nervous atmosphere. 

Virgil took a deep breath and turned around to face the rest of the gathered sides. He didn’t bother to hide the tears pricking in his eyes.

“I mean that I let Roman slip away again.” he said quietly, letting the words to sink in. Slowly the realization blossomed in hearts of three remaining sides. “I think that I screwed up bad this time…” he looked down afraid of the disappointment and anger that were surely to appear in his friends’ (and enemy’s) eyes.

And that’s when the door leading to Apathy’s room shaked and a loud, muffled snap echoed in the hallway. The door opened ever so slightly and a cloud of a red mist sneaked into the hallway along with a scent of undermined danger and anticipation. Virgil didn’t hesitate even for a second and opened the door. And suddenly he was in the theatre, dimmed lamps hanging above his heads and scratched floor under his feet. 

Virgil wasn’t surprised at all. Instead his eyes started scanning the room around him, in search of a memory, or even a trace of Apathy’s presence. The terror still was comfortably spreading through his body and veins and every empty corner and seat, only fueled the sick feeling in his stomach. He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream, he wanted to shout but the tears were already pricking in his eyes, making his throat tight and his breathing uneven. He loudly gasped, trying to draw more oxygen into his lungs. 

Virgil looked over his shoulder and his mind had gone blank. There was no one behind him. Just a plain wall, as if the door, the entrance had never existed. 

\---

Apathy tilted his head with curiosity, letting a smirk tug up his lips. It was freeing not to hate every emotions that was knotting his head with his heart. Watching Virgil with disbelief looking around the room, was almost fun. What wasn’t fun was the unpleasant, nagging feeling that made Apathy’s heart beat faster. It was somehow sad to realize that he didn’t like seeing Virgil scared. Apathy shook his head and sighed quietly.

He wasn’t sure why he let only Virgil in. Maybe somewhere deep down he still didn’t trust the others. The others who didn’t notice as his old self, Creative Roman, was fading right in front of their eyes. Like hell, Apathy didn’t trust Deceit but it was simply out of precaution. But Virgil… That anxious one was different. Interesting in his own way. Apathy’s vision was getting blurry and he quickly wiped the forming tears. 

Now, after searching the Subconsciousness wide and long, Apathy could feel the memory of Virgil’s trembling hands, he could see Virgil’s sad eyes when he left Roman alone in the land of forgotten emotions. Apathy now understood the sacrifice that Virgil made for Roman to exist. And he wanted to pay him back.

Smoothly, as if he had wings and could fly, he jumped off the theatre’s balcony and found himself right in front of Virgil.

“Hello, dearest Anxiety.” Apathy smiled with what he assumed was warmth forming in his heart. It was still rusty, this feeling, he had searched for it for so long, that he almost forgot how it felt. But he was willing to work on it. “I assume that you were looking for me?”

“Roman.” breathed out Virgil. He was blinking with surprise so pure and honest and somehow happy that Apathy couldn’t hold his laugh.

“But why, you look so surprised.” he asked amused. 

“You were gone.” deadpanned Virgil. “I know that you were.” he added ceasing Roman’s giggle.

Apathy looked to the side, frowning and crossed arms on his chest. 

“I was.” he admitted truthfully. “But I’m back, now.” 

“You were in Subconsciousness, weren’t you?” pressed Virgil, his voice cold and serious but his eyes warm and relieved.

“Maybe…” singsonged Roman lightly, looking at Virgil with the corner of his eyes.

“Do you… I mean…” stuttered Virgil, clearly not sure what to say.

“Yes, I’ve seen some things, if that’s what you’re asking for.” Roman said quickly, his voice suddenly colder than before. “I am however not sure what to do with some of these. So I’d rather you to try not to see me through the past, okay? This is all I ask for…” he added quietly, viciousness disappearing from his voice as suddenly as it appeared there. “Look, Virgil…” Apathy cleared out his throat, “I think, I’m not a normal side. There’s something that makes me different, special even…”

“Don’t think so high of yourself, your highness.” snarked Virgil.

“Oh, would you shut up?” growled Roman, trying to hide the amusement, “I’m having a moment here.” he clicked his tongue.

Virgil let out a soft giggle. “Oh, please…” he bowed ever so slightly, “Continue.”

Roman snorted at the gesture, buying himself a time to put the words in his head into some logical order. He looked around at the theatre - the only witness they had. 

“What I meant to say is… I’m lost. A lot. For some reason I was forgotten and then came back with no memories and now I’m back again with all the emotional luggage that I can’t feel in my heart.” Apathy clenched his fist around his sash, “I have my memories like books in Logan’s room. They are there but I don’t feel them. I can look at them but they don’t feel mine. I am aware of them but I’m not able to use them on your behalf. I need… I would prefer…” his voice hitched, “I would prefer for you to still comprehend me as Apathy for now… Until maybe one day I will figure out who am I.” He finished, cringing at his own shyness and insecurity. 

Another drawback of accepting his emotions was embracing the bad ones and for a split of a second he wondered if it was worth it. Until delicate flowery emotion bloomed on Virgil’s face. It was clear and loud and everything and more than Roman needed. He raised up his head before Virgil opened his mouth.

“Well… it is a good thing then, that I started to like Apathy, right?” asked Virgil hoarsely and Roman’s lips spread in a lopsided grin. They stood like that smiling at each other for a moment. Until a tormenting thought re-appeared in Apathy’s head all of sudden.

“It is a good thing indeed.” Roman nodded thoughtfully, “Because Apathy’s not a weak  _ side _ that he used to be.” he drawled through his slightly clenched teeth.

Virgil winced slightly. “You were never weak.” he opposed. “Being lost doesn’t mean being weak.” he added, putting his hand over Roman’s clenched one. They could feel the rhythm of Apathy’s beating heart. It spelt passion. 

Roman was the first one to break the eye-contact, tilting his head back and letting out a short chuckle. “Sometimes you’re ridiculous, my anxious one. Are you sure you’re not morality, somewhere deep down?” he asked and Virgil smiled slightly.

“No, you’re the only side whose purpose depends on his mood, Roman. I guess we could say that you’re special, right?” he added with a spark in his violet eyes.

Apathy smiled mischievously. “I guess we could say that. After all…” he turned around and gracefully sat on the back of the theatre’s seat. “I’m a king, am I not?” he bit his lips.

“I was always a revolutionist fighting for democracy.” Virgil snickered, arching his eyebrow. 

Roman’s red eyes were shining with a challenge. He leaned forward, staring at Virgil with attention. His lips quirked up in a smile, a little bit snarky and a little bit warm.

“Well then, I guess we will meet again real soon, right?” he asked.

“That we will, your highness.” grinned Virgil and turned on his heel, the door was right were he left them unexisting. 

“Hey, Virgil!” called Apathy, not paying attention to the way he called after the fellow side, not even a little bit aware how melodically the name rang in Virgil’s ears. “I would very much appreciate it if you didn’t tell the other sides of my little adventure. I don’t need any more expectations to face.” said Roman lightly but the weight of his words was impossible to miss.

“Of course.”  Virgil responded, “Your secret is safe with me.” he added honestly, turning the doorknob. The world spinned around him and once again Virgil was all alone.

And he wasn’t even remotely surprised when he found himself standing in the middle of Roman’s old room. Everything was covered with thick layer of dust, the only clear and prominent thing being the footprints traced around the room. They were fresh. Virgil smiled and walked over the door, that he knew led to the corridor, careful not to touch anything.

He walked out, carefully closing the door behind. His purple eyes, searched for surprised faces of Logan, Patton and Deceit who were standing on the opposite side of the corridor. To them, it looked like Virgil walked through the wall. They saw no door.

“I was wrong.” said Virgil smoothly. “He’s still with us.” he added and walked down the corridor, his eyebrows furrowed but heart filled with joy.

He couldn’t tell how their life would look from now on. But he was sure of one thing.

The colour of the dust in Roman’s room was painfully similar to the shade of Apathy’s attire that was no longer black nor white. It was in the colour of light graphite.

Virgil hummed and he somehow knew that the melody would reach Apathy’s ears one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed I made this story a first part of the whole series that will feature Apathy. I love this boy too much to part my ways with him.


End file.
